


Jailhouse Rock

by sunflowerseedsandscience



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Drugged Mulder, F/M, First Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:40:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8114989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerseedsandscience/pseuds/sunflowerseedsandscience
Summary: She's not sure what it is about Texas that lends itself to Mulder embarrassing himself while drugged, but at least there were no vampires involved this time.  No, this time they're here courtesy of a tip from a local farmer, whose photos of his mutilated cattle caught Mulder's attention during a dry spell when absolutely nothing of consequence had come across their desks in three weeks.  Scully had agreed to go mainly because she's always found Bored Mulder to be the most difficult Mulder to deal with.That, however, was before she met High Mulder.





	

Scully hates Texas.

She doesn't care how big and bright the stars at night are, she doesn't care how wide and high the prairie sky is, and she sure as hell doesn't care if the sage in bloom is like perfume. Scully hates Texas. Nothing good has ever happened to her and Mulder in the Lone Star State, and this case is doing its best to make sure that streak of horrible experiences continues unabated.

Why she let Mulder talk her into following him out here, to the next-to-nonexistent town of Lazbuddie (population: 248), she doesn't know, not any more than she knows why she's trailed after him on wild goose chases to any of the other hundreds of minuscule hamlets they've visited over the past six years. This particular jaunt into the unknown required a flight from D.C. to Houston, then a connecting flight to Lubbock (where the first two rental cars they were given stalled out before they'd even left the lot), and ended with what should have been a two-hour drive, but ended up taking four, because their third car was no more reliable than the first two and broke down halfway to their destination, necessitating a long, hot hour by the side of the highway, waiting for roadside assistance.

Lazbuddie doesn't have a motel, not even one of the seedy variety Mulder always gravitates towards... but this has turned out not to be nearly as much of a problem as Scully thought it would be, because she and Mulder are spending the night in prison.

Well... after a manner of speaking, that is. This tiny little cage in the corner of the single-room police station could charitably be called the drunk tank, though Scully doubts, in a town this small with only one alcohol-serving establishment, that it sees much action. The way it's constructed, as a barred-off afterthought along the back wall, much newer than the rest of the building, suggests to Scully that it was likely built in haste to deal with a particularly troublesome local.

Or maybe, she thinks, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and shivering in the excessive air conditioning, it was built specifically to house anyone passing through, anyone the townspeople are suspicious of. The residents of Lazbuddie have not, on the whole, shown themselves to be very welcoming of outsiders.

Sitting next to her, on a narrow cot attached to the wall, Mulder is humming placidly to himself, supremely unconcerned with their predicament. And since the mess they're in is entirely his fault, his attitude is not endearing him to Scully at all. Granted, he's under the influence of an as-yet unidentified substance, so he didn't intentionally land them here, but still... he owes her big time for this one. She's not sure what it is about Texas that lends itself to Mulder embarrassing himself while drugged, but at least there were no vampires involved this time. No, this time they're here courtesy of a tip from a local farmer, whose photos of his mutilated cattle caught Mulder's attention during a dry spell when absolutely nothing of consequence had come across their desks in three weeks. Scully had agreed to go mainly because she's always found Bored Mulder to be the most difficult Mulder to deal with.

That, however, was before she met High Mulder.

Judging by Mulder's dilated pupils, his red-rimmed eyes, his nonstop giggling, and his whining about being hungry, even though they ate dinner just a few hours ago, Scully has come to the conclusion that Mulder is stoned. She strongly suspects he's been slipped an edible, probably by the bored-looking teenagers who served them their dinner at the town's only diner. He'd raved about the rich, nutty flavor of the slice of chocolate cake he'd ordered for dessert, and he'd offered her a bite. She's extremely thankful that she'd declined. If she'd been high as well, she would have been no help at all to Mulder twenty minutes later, when he'd begun staggering up and down the aisles of the diner, doing a terrible Elvis impersonation while the jukebox in the corner played "Can't Help Falling in Love." She hadn't managed to keep them from being arrested, it's true- she ended up in handcuffs right alongside Mulder when she grabbed a local cop who was going for his taser- but at least neither of them ended up shot. 

Lazbuddie only has four police officers, none of whom stay on duty at night, and all of whom displayed that quintessential small-town hatred of the Feds that Scully has come to know so well. They were only too happy to lock Scully and Mulder up for the night, laughing that they'd call in their badge numbers and verify their identity in the morning. For now, the workday is over, and the four good ol' boys in ten-gallon hats who escorted them into this pathetic excuse for a prison cell clearly thought the entire situation was the best damn thing they'd seen in ages.

Mulder stops humming for a moment and reaches towards Scully. He's been incredibly handsy the entire time they've been in here, and she's mostly been ignoring it, but the way he's touching the back of her neck right now is incredibly distracting. He's tracing his index finger in swirls over her skin, in a pattern she can't make out, and she tries to shrug him off, but he's persistent.

"What are you doing, Mulder?" she asks.

"Playing dot-to-dot," he replies, giggling.

"Dot-to-dot?"

"Yeah," he says, running his finger down her neck and onto her shoulder. "With your freckles. I'm connecting the dots." She resists brushing his hand away, knowing full well he'll forget her admonition and be right back at it in minutes. "I found a star... and a flower... and oooh, Scully, here's a heart!" His finger runs along her neck in a way that sends warm shivers through her, and she jerks away.

"All right, Mulder, that's enough," she says firmly. He makes a soft noise of protest, and instead of moving away, he leans his head on her shoulder and slides an arm around her waist, humming once more. "Listen," she says, "why don't you try and sleep for awhile? We're clearly going to be here all night." Mulder grins and waggles his eyebrows suggestively at her.

"All alone, Scully," he says. "All night long." Scully sighs and pushes Mulder down to lie in her lap.

"Just close your eyes for awhile, Mulder," she says, smoothing back his hair. "I'll wake you up if they come back to let us out." He's silent and still in her lap for all of thirty seconds before he rolls onto his back and smiles sleepily up at her.

"Remember Florida, Scully?" he asks. "In the woods? When you sang to me?" Scully rolls her eyes.

"Mulder, I am _not_ singing for you," she says adamantly.

"That's okay, Scully," he says. "I'll sing for you instead."

"Mulder, no, you really don't have to-"

_"Wise men say only fools rush in,_   
_But I can't help falling in love with you."_   
_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin_   
_If I can't help falling in love with you?"_

Oh God, he's back to the song from the diner. And this time, he's singing it to her.

_"Like the river flows surely to the sea,_   
_Darling, so it goes... some things are meant to be...."_

He bats his eyes up at her and snuggles against her stomach. She feels herself blushing all over as he takes her hand in his and squeezes it.

_"Take my hand, take my whole life, too,_   
_For I can't help falling in love with you."_

His grin is dopey, but adorable, as he presses his lips to her knuckles and looks up at her. "I do, you know," he says seriously.

"You do what, Mulder?"

"Love you." Scully's breath catches in her throat. Before she can respond, Mulder closes his eyes, snuggles into her stomach again, and, clutching her hand to his chest, goes to sleep. Scully sighs, leaning her head back against the cold cinderblock wall.

 _Why,_ she thinks to herself, _can Mulder never make these confessions when he's sober?_

 

\--------------

 

Mulder wakes with a stiff neck and incredible cottonmouth. Looking up, he sees Scully, dozing above him, her head lolling forward. The angle of her neck does not look comfortable. She starts awake as Mulder pushes himself to a sitting position.

"Hey, you're awake," she says, brushing his hair back gently. 

"In a manner of speaking," he groans. "How long was I out?"

"Maybe three hours," says Scully. "It's a little after four in the morning. How do you feel?"

"Embarrassed," Mulder says, ducking his head. Scully blushes faintly.

"You remember everything, then?" she asks.

"In more detail than I'd like," he says. "Scully, I'm sorry. I have no idea how that pot got into my system." Scully arches an eyebrow.

"I take it that wasn't your first time high, then?" she asks.

"First time since college," he says, "but you don't forget what it feels like. Think it was in something I ate at the diner?"

"My guess is the chocolate cake," says Scully. "I'm just glad we didn't both try it. You barely missed being hit with a taser as it was."

"Yeah, thanks for that," says Mulder. "I'm sorry all you got as payment was a really terrible rendition of an Elvis song." Scully smiles.

"It was sweet," she says, but she's blushing again. She looks a little uncomfortable, and Mulder doesn't have to think very hard to figure out why.

"Scully," he says, "I really am sorry."

"It's fine, Mulder. You had no way of knowing that cake was drugged." 

"No, that's not what I'm talking about," he says. He's nervous as hell, and he knows she'd probably rather he just drop it, but he plows on, determined. "I mean, I'm sorry for what I said. No, wait, that's not what I mean... I'm not sorry I said it, I just...." He sighs. He's doing this badly. "I'm sorry I said it while I was drugged. Again. I should be saying it while I'm sober." Scully ducks her head.

"Mulder...." He reaches over and takes her chin, bringing her face up, meeting her eyes.

"I should be telling you I love you every day, Scully," he says. "Because it's the truth." He cups her face gently, and before she can pull away, before she can stop him, before she can say a word, he kisses her. He feels her hands creep up to his chest, and he braces himself, expecting her to push him back... but her fingers caress him, climb up to his collarbone and around his neck, bury themselves in his hair. He's the one who has to end the kiss, not her, because she has quite literally stolen his breath. He holds the back of her head, pulling her forehead to rest against his own.

"Is this really the best time or place for this?" Scully whispers. He laughs.

"Scully, for us, this is the best time and place," he says. "We're stuck here. We _have_ to deal with it now."

"You make it sound so romantic," she snorts. 

"All I mean is, no matter how scared we are, neither of us can get up and run away right now," Mulder says. "We have to talk about this." Scully bites her lip and smiles.

"Well...." She kisses the corner of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw, her lips slowly trailing around to his ear. "We don't have to _talk._ " Her whisper sends shivers straight to his groin, and he's suddenly so hard, so quickly, it's almost painful. He reaches out and pulls her to him with a low moan, crushing her mouth against his. She climbs into his lap, straddling him, breaking the kiss with a gasp when she feels his hardness pressing against her. 

"Sorry," Mulder murmurs into the soft skin along her collarbone. She laughs, her breasts bouncing enticingly against him.

"What for?" she asks. She loosens his tie, pulls it over his head, tosses it over her shoulder. "I'm flattered. All we've done so far is kiss." She begins to unbutton his dress shirt, briskly. She's on a mission.

"No kiss with you is _just_ a kiss, Scully," he says, toying with the hem of her shirt. She proves his point by pressing her lips to his again, sending both of their heart rates skyrocketing. He pushes her shirt up, and she takes the hint and pulls it up, breaking their kiss only long enough to pass it over her head and fling it away. She reaches behind herself and unhooks her bra, sliding it down her arms and dropping it to the floor. He unbuttons his shirt and slips out of it.

"Touch me, Mulder," she whispers. "Please." His eager fingers find her breasts, and of course they fit perfectly in his hands, like he was made to hold her. He massages them, circles her erect nipples, rolling them between his fingers, pinching gently. She gasps and presses against him as he lowers his head, taking first one, then the other into his mouth, tasting her sweet flesh. He kisses her all over her chest, tracing shapes between her freckles with his tongue. He's suddenly struck with the memory of doing this same thing with his hand on her back three hours earlier. He's been gazing at her smooth, creamy skin for years, since the very first time she rushed into his motel room and trustingly exposed a great, gorgeous swath of it to him, and tonight, with his inhibitions lowered, it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to reach out and touch the freckles he's lovingly counted during six years of walking by her side. It occurs to him that, as idiotic as he must have sounded when he'd admitted to playing dot-to-dot on her shoulders, she hadn't stopped him.

And she's certainly not stopping him now. She's clutching his head to her chest, her nails digging into his scalp, moaning as he suckles her nipples. The sounds he's eliciting from her are driving him wild... but not nearly as wild as the motion of her hips in his lap. She's gyrating against him, rubbing her center against his hardness. He can feel her heat through their clothing, and if she doesn't stop what she's doing, this is all going to be over before it starts. He seizes her hips in his hands, stilling their motion, and she whimpers in protest.

"I need... I need..." He holds her against him, pressing the superheated skin of their chests together, and whispers tenderly in her ear.

"Tell me, Scully." She whimpers again. "Tell me what you need."

"I need you inside of me, Mulder. Please." Mulder takes a deep, shuddering breath, and suddenly he's the one moaning, and now they're both clawing at one another's pants, releasing buttons and zippers, and Mulder sees the dismay on Scully's face at the moment when she realizes she can't get the rest of her clothing off without standing up, without breaking contact with him. He eases her to her feet and slides her pants and panties down for her, pausing briefly at the juncture of her smooth, toned thighs to inhale her intoxicating scent. "Hurry, Mulder," she whimpers, and he has no trouble complying. In seconds his pants and boxers join hers on the cell floor. He sits back down on the cot, pulling her down to straddle him once more. She takes him in her hands, and he scarcely has time to realize that this is it, that he's finally going to be making love to Scully after dreaming about it for six years, because she sinks down onto him and he's there, he's _there_ , and they're not even moving yet but already it's blowing his dreams away. He's going to last about two minutes, he knows he is, and so he takes Scully's hand and places it just above the place where they're joined. He'd like to do it himself, but he doesn't yet know how she likes to be touched, and he's not going to chance leaving her hanging because he couldn't figure it out quickly enough.

Scully's only too happy to oblige him, moving her fingers back and forth over her clit, lightning-fast. At the same time she begins to move against him, clenching her thighs and riding him, slowly at first, then faster. Her breathing is erratic, almost out of control, and he's not sure it's possible for her to be close to orgasm this quickly but it certainly seems like she is, and so he takes her breasts in his hands, giving her nipples a sharp pinch. She gasps, cries out, and suddenly she's clenching around him, her head thrown back in ecstasy and her eyes closed, losing herself in her climax. 

Mulder watches her, enraptured, waiting for her to open her eyes and look at him, wanting to lose himself in the blue of her eyes... but she doesn't open them, doesn't look at him, and after a moment, his mind, heretofore occupied with nothing more than the amazing sensation of being surrounded by Scully, begins to entertain less pleasant thoughts.

He's told her that he loves her... but she hasn't said it back. Instead of talking about this, like he'd suggested, she's seduced him. Is she trying to deflect his admission, trying to soften the blow of her not telling him that she loves him, too? _Does_ she? Is she just not ready to say it yet, or does she not love him at all? Will she one day, if she doesn't now? But if she doesn't after six years, that's not likely to change, is it? He takes a deep, shuddering breath and squeezes his eyes shut, trying vainly to shut up his now-racing mind, trying to banish the self-doubt and the desperation.

Suddenly, Scully's arms are tight around his neck and her voice is soft in his ear. "Mulder," she whispers. "Look at me, Mulder." He opens his eyes to a warm sea of blue, the blue of summer skies, the blue of Scully's eyes fixed on his. She cradles his face in her hands, keeping her forehead pressed to his as she rides him. "I love you too, Mulder. I've always loved you." He melts into her, his face buried in her neck, embarrassed to let her see the tears that are filling his eyes, though surely she can feel them sliding onto her shoulder. "Come for me, Mulder," she whispers in his ear. "I want you to come inside of me." She takes his earlobe gently between her teeth, and that's enough to push him over the edge and he's crying her name as he comes, shuddering and gasping as he empties himself into her.

As his breath returns, Mulder pulls back to look at Scully... and he's shocked to find there are tears on her face, as well. He kisses them away, and she smiles shakily at him.

"You okay, Scully?" he asks, and she nods.

"Better than okay, all things considered," she says. Glancing around at their surroundings, they share a laugh. "Are _you_ okay, Mulder?"

"Best I've ever felt while incarcerated," he says. "In fact, this is the best I've ever felt, period."

 

\------------

 

Lazbuddie's finest, all four of them, arrive at eight in the morning on the dot, cowboy hats in their hands, full of apologies. It turns out that three other guests at the diner had ordered the chocolate cake after Mulder and Scully's arrest, and all three had ended up making a spectacle of themselves on Main Street in the middle of the night. All of the diner employees had been questioned, and two teenaged boys had cracked under the pressure and had admitted to replacing the cake's normal buttercream icing with one of their own special recipe. They had surrendered an impressive brick of THC-laced butter they'd been hiding in the diner's fridge. Mulder and Scully were released, with apologies.

"So, Mulder," says Scully, as they're walking into the parking lot at the diner to pick up their rental car, "any chance at all I can convince you to forget about these cattle mutilations? It's Friday morning... we could catch an early flight back to Washington, file a report saying there was nothing here, be out of the office by five, and have the whole weekend in front of us." She smiles up at him in what she hopes is a tantalizing manner... but the look on Mulder's face says all too clearly that he knows what she's trying to do.

"Come on, Scully, you don't want to leave yet, do you? Admit it, this place is growing on you." She sighs.

"Mulder, while I will admit that the state of Texas has _finally_ done something to get it off my list of least favorite states, I still don't want to stay here any longer than absolutely necessary." They reach the car, which Mulder unlocks, and they climb in, buckling their seatbelts.

"We won't take long, I promise," says Mulder. "We'll drive up to this guy's farm, have a quick look around, you'll come up with some scientific theory that explains everything, I'll dispute it, we'll compromise, and with any luck, we can still catch an evening flight home... and I promise, we can put the paperwork off until Monday, and your weekend will be left intact."

" _Our_ weekend, Mulder," she says pointedly. He holds her gaze for a moment, his grin widening.

"Our weekend," he agrees, and turns the key in the ignition.

_Click._

_Click._

_Click._

Nothing. The car is dead.

And just like that, Texas is once again Dana Scully's least favorite state in the country.


End file.
